Underestimated
by alisalynn
Summary: Underestimated. That was the one word Peter would use to describe himself.


**A/N:  
Oneshot for "Let's End This The Way We Started It" challenge by MermaidGirl34.  
Word received for challenge: underestimated.**

Underestimated. That was the one word Peter would use to describe himself. His entire life, no one had expected much out of him. He had never applied himself to his schoolwork – Remus and Lily had always bested him, so Peter didn't see the point in trying his hardest. He had never been the funniest of the Marauders. Sirius always had a quick comeback, a witty comment. It always took Peter a half second too long to come up with a retort. Peter wasn't a natural leader the way James was. He wasn't much for positions of authority, but he was resourceful and convincing and quick and he'd earned his place in the Marauders more than once, talking the four of them out of multiple scrapes.

Despite this, Peter had always felt the shadow of his friends over him, never feeling that he could shine his brightest. It wasn't their fault, he knew. They just had talents that were easy to see. Peter, he was forgettable, and that was a strength all on its own. James and Sirius stood out and they were constantly getting caught in the middle of shenanigans. Not Peter. He almost always got away clean.

It wasn't enough for him though. He was eternally grateful for his friends, truly. They'd helped him through the toughest times in his life, including the death of his mother, and they'd helped Hogwarts become a second home, allowing him to feel accepted in a way he had never thought possible. The four of them had become Animagi together, they'd joined the Order together; they made Peter feel like he was a part of something. Something special. It was a feeling that Peter loved. Though he was never sure whether he would have had the guts to join the Order without them. That was a secret Peter planned to take with him to his grave – what good was a Gryffindor with no courage? No, he refused to be labeled as the coward he so feared he was.

So he put up a brave front. He volunteered for scouting missions. They were simple enough in his rat form. He was in and out with little danger of discovery and best of all, he felt useful. That was all Peter really wanted. For once in his life, he didn't want to feel so unappreciated. Was it so wrong to want a little recognition every so often?

A wand in the small of his back interrupted his thoughts and Peter groaned, raising his hands and turning to face his captor, berating himself for getting so lost in his own daydreams. This was war! Even taking a stroll around his neighborhood for fresh air, Peter should have had his guard up. He mentally prepared himself to transform and make a quick getaway when his eyes fell upon his assailant for the first time and his stomach sank. He was going to die. This was the real deal. Standing in an alleyway next to a dumpster, stood Voldemort himself, wand trained on Peter. He should stand tall. Face his death with the dignity and bravery of his alma mater.

"P-p-p-please don't kill me!" Peter begged as he sank to his knees. He had heard the stories of the tortures this man could inflict, had seen for himself the mutilated evidence of how depraved this man's creativity could be. Voldemort sighed, "Get up, you idiot. If I was going to kill you, you wouldn't have had time to beg for your life. No. You're much more valuable to me alive." Peter stared at him in fear, scrambling to his feet when Voldemort motioned with his wand. "I…I don't understand," Peter sputtered in confusion, "Why do you need me? I'm no one special."

"Oh, Peter. That's where you're _wrong_." Voldemort said, his voice soft and as smooth as velvet, "You are the key. I need you, Peter. I see what the fools you're working for overlook. You know things. You slip under the radar. But not mine." Peter stood, frozen by intrigue instead of fear for the first time in his life, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Peter, that I could give you everything. Everything you've ever desired and more. You don't have to be _afraid_ any more, Peter! I offer you the promise of sanctuary and a bed of glory and riches. I can provide many things for the people who prove their loyalty to me. Things you couldn't imagine in your wildest fantasies. Of course," Voldemort said, caressing his wand slightly, "I don't necessarily need your permission to garner your cooperation. But you're a smart lad, you already know that, don't you?"

Peter nodded mutely, thinking through his options. It was so tempting an offer. Safety and power; one was a luxury that Peter missed greatly, and the other a luxury Peter had never known. It could be such a great opportunity. Voldemort might have been a madman, but he was powerful and cunning and the way the war was going, Peter wasn't so sure that the Order was going to win. His entire life, all of his friends, they were all working against this man. But where had that gotten him? Even if he found some scrap of his Gryffindor bravado, he'd be Imperius'd and forced to cooperate anyway, or worse, tortured and killed. There was a difference between bravery and stupidity, a lesson many people in Peter's house had never learned.

He was no traitor. But he was no good to the Order dead. He'd play along until he could get away. Find a way out of his bind. Voldemort was crazy if he thought he could get Peter to betray his friends with a few empty promises. Well, the promises weren't exactly empty. Peter had no doubt that Voldemort could follow through if he – no. Peter couldn't afford to entertain thoughts like that. He slowly set his wand on the ground and reached towards the man he despised and had sworn to help destroy. "I'm in."

A smile that could only be described as beatific lit up Voldemort's face, and he grasped Peter's hand, sealing the deal, "Welcome, Peter. Wait until you see the knowledge, the magic that's in store for you. Once I'm done training you, you will never again be underestimated."


End file.
